Childhood Quandaries
by American Mione
Summary: This is meant to be pointless and funny! Turn back now if you don't like that kind of story! Okay, for those of you who aren't frightened, enjoy my story about a certain villian's childhood problems!


Author's Note: Okay, I just wanted to write something funny, and this got stuck in my head. It's pretty pointless, but *I* think it's funny! Please let me know what you think!  
  
Disclaimer: You all ready know that I don't own Harry Potter, so why am I even bothering to write this? Oh yeah! I have problems...don't ask! Just read!  
  
Childhood Quandaries  
The Private Life of Tom Riddle  
* * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
Most people say I have issues...I suppose they have a point. It all started when I was two and my mummy told me she had a "problem". Even as a two year old, I had the mental competence of a genius, so I knew where she was going with this. I told her that I would help her through it, but I don't think she thought a two year old could help her. I'm guessing you want to know what her problem is, right? Well, my mummy was...no, it's too painful. The nightmares still haunt me. Oh, all right! I'll tell you!  
  
My mummy was a-an Elmo addict!  
  
I tried to help her overcome her addiction, but she just kept running to the TV at eleven o'clock each morning and turn on Sesame Street. When "Elmo's World" would come on, she'd start singing those annoying songs that are *ALWAYS* to the tune of that Muggle Christmas carol, Jingle Bells. The horror! The horror! Her room was filled with pictures she had found online of Elmo. She always said she was jealous that Rosie O'Donnell got to *MEET* Elmo, but that didn't keep her from owning thirteen First Edition Tickle Me Elmo dolls. (Does anyone else remember the Christmas when this was like *THE COOLEST* toy?)  
  
By the time I was seven, Mummy had gotten over her obsession with that red puppet because she had found *ANOTHER* show that she believed deserved her attention: Blue's Clues. I can't count all the times I found her on the Nick Jr. website playing Blue's Clues games. She idolized Steve, and I once found a shrine in his honor stored in her closet while I was trying on a pair of her high-heeled pumps...did I just say that out loud just now? (I'm a *BIG* Austin Powers fan!!! Yeah baby, yeah!) Anyways, she was becoming "Swim Fan" (I've never seen that movie...the previews scared me away...) obsessed with Blue's Clues, so I decided to take action.  
  
As a ten year old, I went to the Nickelodeon headquarters and demanded to speak to the man who played Steve on the show. After killing the secretary, the guards let me through and I prepared to attack. I ran up to Steve and grabbed him by his neck. I believe my exact words were, "You weirdo! Do you realize what you are doing to my mummy?"  
  
Steve grinned at me evilly and said, "Thank you! I've been dying to get off this show for *YEARS*! I'll help you if you help me." He held out his hand and we shook on it. We settled on a plan: I would call my cousin, Ezekiel, in Albuquerque (Weird Al...one of the best musicians of our time...), and told him to pretend he was related to Steve. After I threatened to rip his Barney doll to shreds, he agreed. In a few days, the switch was made. Ezekiel and Steve pretended they were brothers, and that Steve was going to college (Like he even graduated high school!) so Ezekiel would take over. Of course, Ezekiel would be too hard for all the two year olds in the world to say, so his name was changed to fit the mental capacity of a toddler. I don't even know what it was changed to, so *DON"T ASK*!  
  
A few days after the switch was made, I found my mummy in her room rocking back and forth. She kept repeating in a possessed-like voice, "My Stevie...they killed my Stevie....My Stevie...they killed my Stevie...." She stayed there for about three days straight before I called St. Mungo's. The men in the pretty white suits came and took her away. I was so embarrassed that I pretended she had died when I was just a baby. Obviously, everyone took my word for it.  
  
When I turned eleven, I received my Hogwarts letter. Contrary to popular belief, I knew *EXACTLY* what Hogwarts was because I knew that my mummy was a witch and that, hopefully, I was a wizard. Luckily, I didn't take after my Muggle father. I was sorted into Slytherin, made a prefect in my fifth year, then the Head Boy in my seventh...all because of that "thing" with that Gryffindork, Rubeus Hagrid. I had unlocked the Chamber of Secrets, being the heir of Slytherin and all, but there was *NO WAY* that I was going to take the blame for it...I had too much going for me. So I turned Hagrid into my scapegoat, quite successfully I might add. (Except for Dumbledore, of course; he never liked me.)  
  
After graduating from Hogwarts, I "disappeared" from the face of the earth for a few years, only to reappear as the great and mighty Lord Voldemort. You know the story: I had a growing following, killing people (witches, wizards, and Muggles) for my own merriment, and right at the peak of my power...I lose it all to that pathetic little one-year-old, Harry Potter. I've never told anyone this, but I was always jealous of his cool scar...I almost *DIED* and I didn't get a cool lightning bolt scar in the middle of *MY* forehead...life's just not fair, you know?  
  
To make a long story short, Potter didn't *KILL* me, but I lost all of my powers in our final battle. He got the girl, the fame, and he *STILL* had that cool scar. ::sniffles:: Come on, Tommy, you can pull through this...forget about his awesome scar...c'mon, you can do it! What? I'm *NOT* talking to myself....I'm not! You big bully! You're got make me cry again!  
  
Now, twenty years later, I've lost all of my magical powers, and I'm living in Graceland...yes, I'm an Elvis fan! So sue me! I have three hound dogs, televisions all over my house, a drug problem, great hips, and I've gained about a hundred pounds in the past few weeks....do you want to know why? Well, I'll tell you why...  
  
Most people say I have issues...I suppose they have a point. It all started when I was two and my mummy told me she had a "problem". Even as a two year old, I had the mental competence of a genius, so I knew where she was going with this...  
  
A/N: So what did you think? Did you think it was funny? hilarious? stupid? What? Please let me know in a review...flames are welcome! That way, I can review *YOUR* stories, and be *REALLY* mean! Remember: When it comes to insults, give what you can take and take what you can give. So don't mess with me; I can take a lot of crap!  
  
Love ya! Ciao! -3- Brittany (and my alter-ego, Whitney! Who is suspiciously absent from this story...) 


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